Daisies and Cannons
by Blood Diamond13
Summary: Ophelia has once again, been gilted. Try as she might, she never can seem to make a man stay. She has once again found herself knocking on her sister's door. After explaining her situation, Uncle Fester decides to teach her how to keep a man... but perhaps she may be getting the wrong impression. Also, the OC is Ophelia.
1. Chapter 1

Ophelia Frump had been gilted once again. No one, ever wanted her. They acted like they did and once they got to know her family, they never wanted anything to do with her. She felt awful. _Is it the judo?_ She often wondered to herself. _Am I too needy?_ She sighed and once again, knocked on her younger sister's door. What a shining example she was setting for her, never dealing with her problems. She waited and then looked through the window to find that nobody was in the living room. She then rang the doorbell.

Meanwhile, Morticia and her husband were in their bedroom, and didn't hear a thing. So, Lurch answered the door.

"Hello, Lurch." Ophelia sighed.

"Hello, Miss Ophelia." Lurch drew out is his low, zombie-like voice.

"Where is Morticia?" She asked.

"Upstairs... busy." Lurch groaned.

Ophelia, known for not being able to control her emotions, began to weep for the twentieth time that day.

Lurch felt very awkward. "Would you like to come in?" Before he could finish the sentence, Ophelia was walking into the house, sitting on the couch.

"Would you please get Morticia?" Ophelia asked.

"N-now?" Lurch did not seem very excited at that prospect.

"Yes." Ophelia said.

"B-but-"

"Hurry, hurry. My sister just _has_ to see me." She waved her hands, gesturing for him to comply with her request.

Lurch groaned and shook his head, but began to walk up the stairs. When he got to their room, he stood by the door for a little while, trying to figure out if he should knock or not.

Gomez kissed his wife's neck. "Tish, you look even lovlier than the day I fist laid eyes on you." He told her.

Morticia smiled. "Merci mon cher. Que dites-vous que nous sauter le petit déjeuner?"

Those words set Gomez's whole being aflame. As this was going on, Lurch was still standing there. He hated to intrude on their privacy but he didn't really have a choice. Listening at the door was like listening to a French documentary, but one his parents would never have approved of. He listened for a while, although he hated to to try and find the right time to come in. Finally, he knocked on the door.

"Bubeleh, there's someone at the door." Morticia said.

"I didn't hear anything." Replied Gomez as he continued to passionatley kiss her.

Lurch knocked again, extremely uncomfortable.

"No, darling, there really is someone at the door. It could be something serious."

Gomez sighed. "Alright." He paused. "Who is it?"

"Uh... me." Lurch amswered from behind the door. "Visitor for Mrs. Addams."

"Oh, alright, Lurch!" Morticia called. "Tell them I'll be there shortly."

Lirch was thoroughly embarrassed. "Okay." He then rushed -which for Lurch was the speed of the average human being- downstairs.

In about twenty minutes, Mr. and Mrs. Addams were downstairs. "Ophelia! What a wonderful... suprise, dear." Morticia hugged her sister.

"Oh, thank goodness. I was wondering why Lurch was taking so long." Ophelia replied. "Hello, dear brother-in-law." She greeted Gomez.

"Hello." Gomez responded.

"Gomez, be honest with me. How do you feel about this?" Ophelia then flipped him, and Gomez yelled... as usual.

"I feel pain." Gomez explained bluntly as he got up.

"No, I mean emotionally." Ophelia tried again.

"I think-"

Just then, Uncle Fester walked in. "Oh, howdy, Ophelia!" He waved to his eldest neice. He then paused and saw the unhappy expression on her face. "Again?"

Ophelia nodded, and began to cry. "Everyone knows I'm pitiful!" She plopped down on the couch.

Nobody told her ot wasn't true, so Morticia gave Lurch, Thing and Gomez an annoyed look. "Ophelia, you are _not_ pitiful." She put a hand on her shoulder.

"Thank you, Morticia. But it's no use. I'm doomed to a lonely life of spinsterhood!" She cried.

"Don't say that, Ophelia." Uncle Fester -or rather is big heart- said. "Maybe I can help ya!"

"Really?" Ophelia asked.

"Here, dear." Morticia handed her sister a black handkerchief.

"Thank you." She loudly blew her nose.

Uncle Fester continued. "Yea, sure. I used to write advice to the love lorn column all the time!"

Morticia noded. "Remember, Ophelia?" She paused and looked at Uncle Fester sympathetically. "And he would probably still be doing it too if everyone had stopped suing him."

Uncle Fester sighed. "Morticia, the world just wasn't ready for me." He winked at her.

Morticia smiled. "How true."

Gomez slapped Uncle Fester on the back, playfully. "Good luck, old boy!"

"Gomez, you should be wishing Ophelia good luck." Uncle Fester corrected. "She's the student, I'm the _teacher_."

Gomez sighed. "I know."

Ophelia and her uncle had been in the play room for the past four hours. "Alright." Uncle Fester pointed to a chalk board with a drawing of a stick figure in a triangle to resemble a dress, flipping another stick figure. "This, is you." He used a wooden pointer, and pointed at the stick figure with the dress.

"Alright." Ophelia nodded.

"This." He pointed to the man. "Is... a man you just met." He paused. "What's wrong with this?"

"Nothing. I'm-" Ophelia then realized something. "I never asked his name?"

"Correct!" Uncle Fester shouted. "Now, I think that you're a great girl, Ophelia. But... you're kinda desperate."

 _"Uncle Fester!"_ Ophelia scolded, hurt.

"What?" He asked. "Ophelia, yea, you need to keep up with your judo but some men just wanna talk."

"Well, you see, Uncle Fester... that's the trouble. What would I talk about? My daisies? Weeds? Judo? That's all I know how to talk about." She confessed.

"No, it isn't. Whatever pops into your head, talk about it. Talk about yourself, talk about your family history. Like Pike Frump, he was the hanging judge in Salem for four years, then he was hanged himself."

Ophelia giggled, she always thought that to be a rather amusing story. "But I'm not..." She _humphed_. "I'm just not smart like Morticia and mother wish I could be. I don't even understand day and night."

Uncle Fester thought for a moment. "But, you understand night and day."

"Yes, that's true." Opehlia said. "But still, I want to be smart. I want to learn how to make men stay. I know how to get them. But alas, I can't ever seem to keep them."

"That _does_ seem to be a problem." Uncle Fester admitted. "Why don't we find you a hobby? You can keep men interested with that. Say..." He snapped and gasped. "I just got a new cannon! Maybe we can fire it?"

"That sounds like a great idea!" Ophelia said excitedly.

Meanwhile, Gomez was rubbing his wife's neck in the parlor while she sat on a chair... worried sick about her sister. "Darling, this is the third time this week she's come over because she's been gilted. That's twelve men... _this month_."

"I know, carita. Your sister's a fine girl but you have to admit... she's not the easiest to have a relationship with. Romantic or not." Gomez told her.

"I suppose you're right, mon cher."

"Tish, that's-"

"Gomez, we _have_ to think of Ophelia right now." She said before he could make a move.

"French." Gomez said, sadly. He sighed. "But, you're right, darling." He paused. "What do you think they're working on down there?"

"I'm sure that Ophelia and Uncle Fester are working on something very productive and worthwhile. Something that will really help her." Morticia said, seemingly trying to convince herself.

"Tish..." He then stopped, second-guessing his words. He decided to come back to them later. "I know that we should only be thinking about your sister. But, you're my wife, cara mia. And I can't help but worry about you. Perhaps some fencing would do you some good, or maybe you should feed Cleopatra a snack. I really hate to see you sulking." He confessed.

Morticia sighed and got up. "You're right, mon cher."

Gomez's blood began to boil and he rushed to his wife's side. He looked at her, with pleading eyes.

"Qui, mon amour." She answered his unspoken question and he began to kiss her up her arm.

Meanwhile, Ophelia and Fester were in the garden now, shooting off his cannon.

"Alright, your turn, Ophelia!" Fester stepped aside, making way for his neice.

She shot off his cannon, it was the loudest blast yet. "Uncle Fester, this is so fun!" She shouted.

"See, Ophelia?" Uncle Fester smiled. "Your a really fun, interesting girl. You just have to be willing to try new things." He told her. "And anyway, you don't have to be smart _like_ Morticia. Your smart in your own way."

"Thanks, Uncle Fester." Ophelia sighed. "What should we do now?"

"Eat dinner." Uncle Fester said.


	2. Chapter 2

Ophelia studied herself in the guest bedroom mirror. She looked different at night. She had just taken a shower, her hair was all combed and long. She had on a short, silk, yellow nightgown which was strapless. She wore yellow ballet-style slippers and she had no makeup on.

She wondered, if perhaps, the boys never stayed because of the way she looked. Some might say that Morticia was arguably prettier than her sister, although Ophelia didn't like to think so. Compared to Morticia, with the curvacious measurments of 36", 21", 36", Ophelia was a rectangle. Her measurments were 35", 30", 36". She was skinny, but her stomach was not flat like her sister's. The rumor was that blonde's had more fun, but Ophelia was beginning to believe that was not the case. She only _spoke_ highly of herself because she didn't _think_ highly of herself.

She got into bed and sighed. How greatly she envied her sister, more than Morticia would ever know. It was mostly due to the relationship she had with Gomez. How badly she wished a man would adore her like that. She was ever envious of how all of Morticia's manurisms (which Ophelia used to think nothing of) set her husband into flames. He practically ravaged her at the dinner table last night. Ophelia wished so badly that she could have a man to practically bend to her will, but also for her to be a willing servant to his heart in return.

She was about to blow out her candles when she heard a loud bang against the wall. Confused, she put her ear against it and listened. She heard Gomez's name being called and the French words, _prenez-moi_. Ophelia didnlt even wish to learn what that meant. The banging continued but all she did was silently cry.

Uncle Fester then knocked on the door of the guestroom.

"C-come in, Uncle Fester." Ophelia sniffled.

Uncle Fester walked in and shut the door behind him. "Is everything okay?" He asked.

"Everything's fine..." She lied.

"You're crying." Uncle Fester pointed out.

"You noticed?" Ophelia asked, sincerely.

"Yep. What's the matter?" He paused, then gestured to the wall. "I could get Máma to ask them to quiet down if you can't sleep. No one ever really sleeps in here, so the banging isn't usually heard by anyone except... well, them." Uncle Fester sighed.

"No, no. Don't do that, I wouldn't want to... disturb them." Ophelia cried again.

"Well, what's wrong then, if it's not the banging?"

"I wish..." Ophelia sighed, she couldn't hold it in any longer. "I wish I could be like Morticia. I wish I could be smart like her and mother. I don't do things like she does, or look like she does or act like she does. I can get lots of boys..." She sniffled. "The only trouble is, I can't make them stay."

Uncle Fester sat on the bed next to her. "Ophelia... you _are_ smart, in your own way. You are such a loving person, you have so much to give. And any man who drops you like a hot potato is the stupid one. You are very sweet, and you know judo. Morticia can't say that. Sure, she know how to shoot a gun, and speaks fluent French, and knows self-defense, and has very good manners, and knows how to light candles with her finger tips, is a pretty good cook-"

" _Okay_ , Uncle Fester." Ophelia was starting to rethink the decision og having this conversation.

"Oh, sorry." Uncle Fester sighed. "Anyways, you are very enthusiastic and pretty. And you shouldn't let a man measure what kind of person you are."

"But mother said that-"

"I _know_ what your mother said. She's always said that, for as long as I can remember. She's my sister. But your father-"

"He was always more like Morticia."

"Yes, he was. But you, your mother, _and_ Morticia all know that he loved you both equally. That's because he was a good man, and a wonderful father. He always believed that before you can start loving anyone else, you had to accept yourself. And you wanna know a secret?"

"What?"

"He never agreed with arranged marraige."

"He... he didn't?" Ophelia was shocked.

"No. Máma and Hester were best friends in high school, and really re-connected after your father died. Wih no one to oppose arranged marraige, Hester set you up with Gomez."

Ophelia smiled, she loved telling secrets, and hearing them. "And did it work out?"

Uncle Fester paused. "Well... no."

Ophelia then realized the obsurdity of the question. "Oh, there I go again!" She cried.

Uncle Fester hugged her. "It's okay." He said. "You just need to remind yourself about all the good things about you."

"You're right, Uncle Fester." Ophelia stopped crying, smiled and situated herself under the covers. "Thank you."

"No problem." Uncle Fester then blew out the candles, and exited.


	3. Chapter 3

It had been two weeks, and Ophelia had been spending most of the time with her dear uncle. And she was putting her makeup on in the mirror when a thought struck her. _No man will ever want me. And it isn't because I don't like myself, because now I do. It's because I'm just too much for them. But there is, one man... who just might._ She quickly applied her lipstick and rushed downstairs.

Everything was business as usual, her sister and brother-in-law were dancing the tango, Lurch was playing his harpsicord, Thing played his castanettes, Máma was making breakfast in the kitchen, the children were at school, and Uncle Fester... was nowhere to be seen. "Have any of you seen Uncle Fester?"

The room then went silent, and Gomez and Morticia shared an anxious look with one another. Morticia then approached her sister.

"Ophelia... dear, don't you remember?"

"Remember what?" Ophelia asked, confused.

"Last night, you and Uncle Fester were shooting off his cannon, and then somebody put a little too much powder in it... it burst into flames, and Uncle Fester inhaled some smoke, and..." Morticia then eyed for Gomez to jump in.

Gomez walked over to his wife, and sighed. "Ophelia... he's dead."

Opehlia screamed and cried, and woke up from her ever-so-realistic dream in a pool of sweat and tears. It was ten o'clock in the morning, and Ophelia ran downstairs, nightgown and no makeup.

When she got downstairs, everything was business as usual. Her sister and brother-in-law were dancing the tango, Lurch was playing his harpsicord, Thing played his castanettes, Máma was making breakfast in the kitchen, the children were at school, and Uncle Fester... was nowhere to be seen. Ophelia was getting a serious sense of deshavu. Evryone stared at her, she looked dishevled. "Where's Uncle Fester?" She asked, afraid of the answer.

Morticia shared a worried glance with her husband. "He's in the backyard, in his new coffin." She told her.

Opehlia knew Morticia could conceal her emotions but this was too much. She became even more panicked. _"Oh my God, he's dead!"_

Gomez then looked at Ophelia like she was insane, but Morticia spoke before he could. "Dear... he ordered it from his catolog, _Vlad the Impalor Collectors Items, Volume 5."_

Ophelia began to relax. "Oh... okay, I'll just... go out there, then." She then exited the room.

Lurch groaned and shook his head.

The room fell silent and soon dispersed until Morticia and Gomez were left.

Morticia looked like she was going to be sick and sat on the couch.

"Tish, are you alright?" He asked.

"No, darling." Morticia confessed. "I'm not."

"What's the matter?" He asked. "Would it make you sicker if I sat down?"

"No, in fact I'd prefer it."

Gomez nodded and sat next to his wife. He took her hands in his, which were colder than usual and she rested her had on his shoulder. "Querida, you're awfully cold. Are you ill?"

"No. I'm just a concerned sister."

"Oh... you're worried about Ophelia?" Gomez asked.

Morticia nodded.

"I understand, but I don't want you getting yourself sick over this."

"Oh, mon cher, I'll be fine."

Gomez eyed her longingly and she nodded, he knew she was sick so he kissed her hand instead of going all the way up her arm like usual. "Cara mia, I mean it."

Morticia's nerves were so bad that she felt like someone was twisting a knife in her stomach. She groaned slightly.

"My dear, you can only do so much. I know your only wish is to help your sister, but I think she's better now." He rubbed her back soothingly.

"No, Gomez, that isn't it. It's that... well, she's been spending quite a lot of time with Uncle Fester lately."

"Yes. Does that upset you?"

"No, of course not. Normally, it would be wonderful but... now... it seems she's becoming rather dependent on Uncle Fester."

Gomez nodded. "Well, Tish, you know Ophelia. Don't take this the wrong way, darling. But we both know your sister isn't the most _independent_ woman in the world."

"No, Gomez, I know that." Morticia sighed. "I mean, I think..." She didn't want to say it, she bit her tounge.

"Wait..." Gomez was catching on. "You think... you think she's in-"

Ophelia was about to enter the room.

Morticia had to think fast. "Mon cher, nous en parlerons plus tard." She quickly blurted out.

Gomez was kissing her arm in less than two seconds and Morticia breathed a sigh of relief. He was so caught up in his passion, Morticia doubted he even took in the words, _We'll speak about this later_.

"Hello, dear sister." Ophelia's voice was airy.

"Hello, Ophelia." Morticia sounded a bit sick still.

To the oblivious Ophelia, however, everything was okay.

"Did you find Uncle Fester, dear?" Morticia asked, her husband now kissing her down her spine, knowing nothing of the conversation taking place.

"Yes, I'm getting him a glass of water. He decided to fix up one of his older coffins and convert it into a bed. He thinks they're comfortable. He mumbled something about starting a corporation." Ophelia shook her head, a tad cinfused about that part.

"I see. Excuse me, Ophelia." Morticia turned her attention to Gomez, who now was basically eating her fingers. "Later, mon cher, we're talking to Ophelia."

Gomez nodded after one more kiss on her pale, delecate hand and controlled himself and turned his attention to his sister-in-law. "Ah yes, how are you, Ophelia?"

"Splendid!" Ophelia then lightly mused to herself as she strolled to the kitchen.

After she exited, all Morticia could do was share a look of alarm with her confused husband.

Ophelia walked out to the backyard and found Uncle Fester, wrench in hand doing God knows what to an old coffin. "I have your water, Uncle Fester!"

Fester turned and took the water. "Oh, thanks, Ophelia." He paused. "Say, have you seen my charger? Morticia wants to bake a cake later today and I have to be all charged up and ready to go."

"No, Uncle Fester, I'm sorry. I can go look if you want."

"No, no, it's fine. I'll find it sooner or later. I can charge pretty quick." Uncle Fester shook his head and sighed. After a long pause, he snapped his fingers. "I'll bet you Pugsley was playing with it again."

"Oh, well good, then. Now you know where it is." Ophelia said.

"Yea, now I won't have to spend a half hour looking for that. I'll only have to spend an hour looking for Pugsley." He smiled as if his statement made logical sense.

"Would you like some help? Fixing up the coffin, I mean?" Ophelia asked.

"Uh... sure." Uncle Fester looked around to see what he could use some help with. He didn't want to make her feel bad if he declined. "Oh, here." He pointed to a tool box. "How about you hand me the tools I need, and then we'll switch every twenty minutes?"

"Oh! That sounds fun!" Ophelia clapped her hands, and at that, they got right to work.

That night, there was no banging. Not that Ophelia would have minded anyway, her mind was racing with a thousand happy thoughts. Unfortunately, they were happy thoughts of which she could not share. She had a different taste than her sister. She had no problem with puppies, and liked white more than black. And those were just a couple minor differences they had.

Ophelia closed her eyes, excited about what her dreams would be filled with, and even more excited to awake the next morning.

A couple of lamps were lit for light down in the library. A worried Morticia sat in one of the black leather chairs, her husband kneeling, holding her hand. "Tish, will you please tell me what's going on? I promise, the rest of the family's upstairs. No one's going to hear a thing."

Morticia nodded. She hated when Gomez was distressed, especially when it was solely because she was, too. "Well, you seem to have already figured it out."

"I... I didn't want to be right, but I think I am."

"It just... it's too obvious. I feel awful for even thinking it but I..." Morticia was at a loss for words.

Gomez gently squeezed his wife's hand. "I know." He paused. "Querida, not that I would ever second guess your judgement, but... are you _sure_ all other possibilities have been ruled out?"

Morticia smiled. She loved how devoted he was to her, how much he trusted her. She hoped, some day, Ophelia would be lucky enough to have the same thing. "Quite." She confirmed.

"So, we've both come to the same conclusion then." Gomez said and stood up.

"Yes, darling... I believe we have."

Gomez took a deep breath. "She thinks she's in love with him."


	4. Chapter 4

Mortica seemed to feel sick again.

Gomez nodded. "Morticia,-"

He stopped when he noticed her silent tears falling. He could tell she was crying, even if there was no light. Her lower lip quivered when she cried. Gomez found it beautiful, as he found everything about her.

Morticia looked up, then back down again. She felt so sorry for her sister.

Gomez took her hand and helped her up. He then sat down in her chair and she sat on his lap. He held her tightly as she cried, and stroked her cheek. Soon enough, she stopped.

"It's alright, my love..." He spoke softly, his jaw against her shoulder. "Concern is one of the most difficult emotions. Trust me, I'd know." He awaited a reply.

When one did not come, he gently lifted up his jaw and craned his neck to see that his dear, caring wife was asleep. He sighed and shook his head. Carefully, he stood up and took her in his arms. He carried her up the stairs and into their bedroom. The lights, thankfully, were all turned off. He then gently placed her under the covers and crawled into bed with her.

Before he drifted off to sleep, he felt her snuggle up next to him. Arm around her, he finally shut his eyes.

That morning, Gomez put on his suitcoat as Morticia finished putting on her makeup.

"My dear, I know it's wrong, and we both know Uncle Fester probably doesn't feel the same way about her..." Gomez began. "So... what do we do?"

Morticia pursed her lips. "Well darling, I suppose... the only thing we _can_ do." She stated. "Try to convince her otherwise."

"You mean we should tell her we know?" Gomez asked.

"No, I mean subtly. You know, perhaps tell her the story about my great Aunt Yolanda Frump, she had a senario quite similar to this one. And she moved to Australia and met a wonderful man there, who wasn't her uncle." Morticia said.

"I suppose." Gomez walked over to her.

Morticia then fumbled to try and get her necklace on. She had so many things on her mind and her nails were long, so that made it hard to get the clasp together.

"Here, let me do that." Gomez then gently pushed her hair over to the side and attatched her necklace.

"Ah, thank you, darling. Now, let's head downstairs and see about Ophelia."

So arm in arm, the couple headed downstairs, adimant that they'd face what was to come, together.

That day was gone as quick as it had come, as was the day after that, and the day after that, and so on and so forth. Gomez and Morticia, try as they might, could not get Ophelia to snap out of her weird state. Eventually, they gave up hope and knew that they'd have to talk to Uncle Fester very soon.

It was the last night of the month of May. That night Ophelia decided she must talk to her uncle, becuase she was beggining to feel a strong connection, and she could no longer hide it. She wandered into his room, and waited there. When Uncle Fester walked in, he was taken aback. "Howdy, Ophelia!" Uncle Fester smiled. "What are you doing up so late?"

"Oh, just thinking..." Ophelia said.

"I understand. I'm so sad May is over. Morticia does always say the dreaded April flowers bring the ominous May showers. And now, the month of showers is gone." He sighed. "Oh well, there'll be another May next year."

"No, Uncle Fester."

"There won't?"

"No, that isn't what I mean. I mean, I..." She had to just come right out and say it. Where was all this shyness coming from? "I really appreciate you helping me over the past month."

"No problem, Ophelia. After all, what's family for, right?"

"Yes." Ophelia nodded. "Well... I don't think I need you to help me anymore."

"That's great, Ophelia! Why?"

"I... met someone."

"Oh, wow." Uncle Fester smiled. "Who?"

"He's five foot seven, and round. He's bald, and he always wears a long coat."

"Sounds handsome." Uncle Fester remarked.

"He is. And... well, he's you."

Uncle Fester was speechless. After about a minute, finally he spoke. "Whadaya mean?"

"I mean what I just said."

"But, Ophelia... I'm your uncle."

"Yes, but I really like you."

"Good. We're _family_."

"No, you don't understand." Ophelia persisted. "Your the only man who's ever liked me. You know my family,-"

"I _am_ your family."

Ophelia ignored the last statement. "You love me, even though you know all of my habits and flaws. You have never stopped caring about me, you're so helpful. And, and we could get a DNA test. I might not even be a part of this family, I may have been adopted!" Ophelia sounded absolutely crazy.

Uncle Fester had no idea how to handle the situation. "Ophelia... this isn't right. I love you but in a _family_ sort of way."

"I don't understand."

"I love you like Máma loves Pugsley and Wednesday, not the way Gomez loves Morticia." Uncle Fester explained.

"But... that isn't how I feel about you. Anyways, what's the difference? Love is love."

"Listen to yourself, Ophelia. _Really_ listen to yourself. This is crazy."

Ophelia began to cry. "But, Uncle Fester! You're my only hope, your the only man who loves me. Please, don't do this."

"Ophelia, _other men_ who aren't your uncle could love you. Just because a few didn't-"

"Twenty two."

" _Okay._ Just because twenty two didn't doesn't mean one won't. No guy truly ever loved your sister the way Gomez does. There's somebody for everybody. You just have to find them." He sat on the bed next to his neice.

"I... do you know what mother told me? The day before we boarded the plane to come here? She told me that she thought nobody could stick to Morticia, and that one of us had to give her grandchildren. She said it had to be me because she thought that Morticia's offspring wouldn't be normal."

"That's ridiculous."

"Of course, as she got older, some of her opinions changed. But she's always looked down on me being unable to keep a man."

Uncle Fester shook his head. "Well, your mother was wrong. She was wrong about your sister's offspring, she was wrong about Morticia finding somebody, and she's wrong about you. You're wonderful, and any man who can't see that is the one with the problem."

Ophelia sighed. "I guess you're right. Oh, Uncle Fester, how could I be so stupid?" She was now laughing, and crying but mostly laughing. "I'm so sorry, how terribly awkward you must've felt. I guess you're mad, huh?"

Uncle Fester chuckled. "No, I'm not mad. But one of these days, your heart and your mind have to work together."

"Yea, you're right. Look, I think it would be best if I went away for a while. Perhaps go to the Bahamas or the Carribean or Death Valley, you know, some place hot."

"I think that sounds like a good idea."

Ophelia waited by the door, dressed and packed.

Uncle Fester walked up to his neice and hugged her tightly. "You _were_ right about one thing, though."

"What's that?"

"You don't need my help anymore."

"Really?" Ophelia asked.

"Really. You can always ask for it but, you don't need it."

Ophelia wrapped her arms around her uncle's neck and a tear ran down her cheek. "I love you, Uncle Fester." She chuckled. "But in a _Wednesday-Pugsley_ , _family_ sort of way."

Uncle Fester smiled. "I love you too, Ophelia."

Ophelia let go of the embrace. "Be a dear and tell them I left when they awake."

"I'll do that."

"Bye, Uncle Fester! I'll send some postcards!" She then stepped out into the cool, black night.


	5. Chapter 5

Morticia awoke at around midnight, which was quite unusual for her. She decided to check on Ophelia. She quietly got out of bed, as to not to disturb her sleeping husband, and walked to the room adjacent to their's. She saw that the room was uninhabited. She then became rather worried and searched the whole bedroom floor for her sister. She then recalled that a few hours ago, Ophelia had told her that if a man didn't feel the same way about her one more time, she'd just die. And Morticia took it as an exaggeration.

She practically ran to her and Gomez's bedroom, and touched her husband's shoulder. "Gomez, darling..." She shook him a little. "Darling, wake up, please. It might be an emergancy. I-"

Gomez jumped out of bed and took his wife's hands. " _Emergancy?_ Tish, what's the matter?"

"Ophelia's missing." Morticia said.

 _"Missing?"_

"Missing." Morticia confirmed.

"Don't fret, carita, we'll find her."

"Darling? Do you recall the conversation we had with Ophelia a few hours ago?"

"Yes."

"Do you suppose she could've done something drastic?" Morticia's eyes grew wide.

"No, my dear. I'm sure she's fine, let's look for her, come on."

They searched the whole house, and finally came down to the parlor. There they found Uncle Fester, standing by the door.

Gomez and his wife then shared an alramed look. They waisted no time and practically ran to Uncle Fester.

"Uncle Fester! We have to talk to you." Morticia said.

"Oh Morticia, Gomez, didn't expect you to be up so early." He thought for a moment. "Nevermind, it... doesn't suprise me."

Gomez chuckled and slapped Fester on the back. He then remembered just why they were here. "Uncle Fester, uh... this may come as a shock to you but... Ophelia's..."

"Uncle Fester, dear, Ophelia is in love with you."

Uncle Fester was about to speak but Gomez did first. "I know, it's a bit strange."

Morticia jumped in. "But we think you may have shattered her heart. She's a fragile thing and... we're afraid she's done something drastic."

"Oh, don't worry you two, I-"

"Now, you may fail to realize the serioussness of the situation. Ophelia has a problem and-"

" _Had_ a problem."

"What do you mean, _had_ a problem?" Morticia asked.

"Uncle Fester, where _is_ Ophelia?" Gomez asked.

"Oh, she's gone." Uncle Fester remarked.

Morticia gulped and felt as though she were going to faint.

Gomez quickly held onto her. "Fester, you can't lay it on that hard. Poor Morticia's going to have a heart attack." He helped his wife become steady on her feet. "Cara mia, are you alright?"

"Yes, darling, I'll... be fine." A pause. "Oh, no I won't." She went down again, held up by her husband.

"See what you've done, Uncle Fester?" Gomez asked, rather upset.

"She left about fifteen minutes ago." Uncle Fester said.

Morticia stood up and breathed a sigh of releif that her sister was infact, not dead. No, on the contrary she was very much alive.

"Well, why on earth did she do that?" Gomez asked.

"And without saying goodbye?" Morticia added.

"I talked to her. I already knew about her little problem. She's gonna hang out in the Bahamas for a little while."

Morticia shuddered at the mention of the place. "Oh... oh thank Heavens!" Morticia inhaled and exhaled deeply.

Gomez laughed. "We thought that she-"

"Oh." Uncle Fester laughed, too. "No. She didn't."

Morticia smiled. "Well, goodnight, Uncle Fester."

Gomez linked his wife's arm with his. "Goodnight, Uncle Fester."

"Goodnight Morticia, Gomez."

The couple then walked upstairs to bed, but were able to sleep peacefully.


	6. Exposition: Let Her Know Happiness

It was now June 13th, and the Addams' had received their first postcard from Ophelia.

Thing handed Morticia the mail. "Thank you, Thing." Morticia said with a smile.

Thing replied with a _thumb up_ and retreated back into his box.

 _"Dear Family,"_ Morticia read the postcard aloud. _"I am having a wonderful time in..."_ She shuddered. _"The Bahamas, and I truly appreciate all of Uncle Fester's help. I met someone, his name is Jason Kruger, and he just loves his chainsaw and my judo. We couldn't be happier. I have a good feeling about this one. Well, I have to go! Hopefully this postcard finds you in good health."_ Morticia read. "Signed, Ophelia."

"Sounds like a real charmer." Gomez said.

Morticia nodded in agreement. "He does. Well, I'm glad she's getting along."

"Me too." Uncle Fester said. "She's a good kid."

Morticia finished knitting and observed her creation. It was a sweater with no neck and one arm, very long. It was orange. "What do you think, darling?" Morticia held it up.

"Marvelous." He said, observing the sweater. "What is it?"

"A sweater for Cousin Croopley. He's been terribly depressed ever since he lost his neck. I'm hoping this will bring him out of it." Morticia explained and set the sweater on the table next to her.

Gomez kissed her hand. "Ah, how _like_ _you_ to think of others, before, in and after any situation."

"Merci, mon amour." Morticia purred.

"Oh, Tish... that French, it drives me _wild_." He helped her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her slim waist.

"Je connais, mon cher."

Gomez groaned and began to passionatley kiss her, skipping his usual desent up her arm and heading straight for her lips.

Morticia enjoyed his ravenous behavior, and hoped that in the Bahamas, Ophelia was feeling the same level of happiness with her life, man in it or not.


End file.
